


Day 19: Candy Hearts

by thebright1



Series: An Ineffable Plan: A Canon Compliant Love Story [19]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: "Cooks", 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Children With Knives, Conversation Hearts, Crowley Cooks, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), F/M, Ineffable Valentines 2020 (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Secondhand Awkward, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebright1/pseuds/thebright1
Summary: Aziraphale goes still. Crowley leans his head down and presses a delicate kiss to the side of his throat.I adore you, he thinks.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Series: An Ineffable Plan: A Canon Compliant Love Story [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620406
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113





	Day 19: Candy Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct continuation of [Day 15: Delicacies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22747393), but all the stories in this series are linked together, so if you want a full picture of what exactly is going on, please start with [ Day 1: Chocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520329). 
> 
> All the stories in this series are written for the 2020 Ineffable Valentines challenge on Tumblr, and I am still trying to fill those prompts even though this thing has taken on a life of its own.
> 
> Update: All the works in this series are also posted as a chaptered work for easier reading/downloading: [ An Ineffable Plan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081191/chapters/55213303)

February 13, 2016

“I’ve needed this night away for so long, Nanny,” Harriet confesses. She touches Crowley’s shoulder very kindly. “Thank you and Francis so much for agreeing to look after Warlock while I’m gone.”

“It’s no problem Mrs. Dowling,” Crowley says in his soft brogue. “I understand the challenges a mum goes through today. Every woman deserves to have a little time to herself.” Crowley means it. He hasn’t asked but is pretty sure the helicopter parent movement is one of Heaven’s inventions that went horribly horribly wrong. Or maybe horribly right. It’s horrible either way. Crowley’s been around a long time and kids are better when they’re causing trouble. It makes his job a lot easier. Kids also like to ask questions, so he feels like each of them is a little version of him making trouble by asking adults to rethink what they  _ know. _

“Thaddeus was supposed to meet me in London, but he was detained in DC. I was going to cancel, but this just seemed like a good excuse to just-“

She’s delaying. Crowley takes her arm and ushers her towards the kitchen door. “No need for excuses, now,” Nanny says. “You deserve it and I hope you and the girls have a wonderful time. Have an extra drink for me, and make sure you don’t let your girls post any photos on Facebook for Mr. Dowling to be jealous of.”

Harriet chuckles and gives him a brilliant grin. “You are the best, Nanny. Sometimes I feel like you’re the mother I never had.” 

Crowley does not know what to say to this unexpected compliment, so he just smiles. “We’ll have a lovely night, just the three of us.”

Harriet picks up her overnight bag and slings it over her shoulder. She gives Nanny an appraising look. “You two make quite the odd couple.” She looks straight at Crowley’s glasses, trying to see Nanny’s strange eyes underneath. 

“Oh, now, Brother Francis and I are just friends.” It’s a line that has become increasingly used when the other house staff comment on how they spend quite a bit of time with each other while Warlock is out in the garden. 

“If you say so,” Mrs. Dowling says doubtfully. “He has quite the crush on you.”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

Harriet raises an eyebrow. “Don’t go breaking any hearts, Nanny.”  _ If you knew the half of it,  _ Crowley thinks. He’s not sure he could break Aziraphale’s heart. For as much as he’s a being of love, Aziraphale has never said those words to Crowley. Crowley has been on the verge of saying the words to Aziraphale, but he isn’t quite sure what will happen if he does. Will he burn in Hellfire? Will God smite him for daring to declare love to one of Her heavenly creatures? 

Crowley nods absently to Harriet and waves his hand. “Off with you now, Mrs. Dowling, shoo!”

Harriet gives him a wink and heads towards the car. Crowley closes the kitchen door after her, returning to the library where Brother Francis and Warlock are engaged in a game of Battleship. Brother Francis is losing. 

“Oh, young Warlock, that’s another one down! You're besting me at this game!” 

“It’s much better on the telly, Brother Francis.” He motions towards the XBOX and the giant TV hung over the fireplace. “The ships actually move there. And you can see the sailors jumping off into the ocean and getting eaten by sharks.”

Aziraphale sends a questioning glance to Crowley who almost imperceptibly shakes his head.  _ Not me, angel. _

“That seems a bit violent. Wouldn’t it be better if they were rescued by the other sailors?”

Warlock frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense, they’re enemies.”

“Well, now, you know the good Lord wants us to love all of our friends on Earth.”

“Yeah, but not our enemies, right, Brother Francis?”

Aziraphale sputters. “Well, I think, uh, that is, Jesus said-“

“That’s enough theology for now, Brother,” Nanny says. Mrs. Dowling is a Christian because that’s how you get ahead in American politics, and as such, she takes Warlock to Church every Sunday, but Crowley just got Warlock to stop singing Jingle Bells a week or so ago. He does not want to be forced into another recitation of the Christmas story so soon. “Easter will be here soon enough, plenty of time to talk about Jesus then.”

Nanny holds her hands out. “Come on, Warlock, you need to chop the vegetables, then you can play some XBOX.” Crowley figures playing with knives is a suitable chore for the anti-Christ. “Brother Francis, I have a special package in my room for tonight. Can you please go get it?”

Aziraphale lifts himself from the carpet. “Certainly, Nanny. I’d be delighted to.” 

Crowley and Warlock go into the kitchen. Crowley slips an apron on over his head to protect his immaculate black skirt suit. He gives Warlock the sharpest vegetable knife he can find. He doesn’t worry that the boy will hurt himself- he is the anti-Christ after all. Crowley gives Warlock a large head of romaine from the garden and a cutting board and sets the boy to work making a Caesar salad on the island in the sleek modern kitchen. 

Warlock uses both hands to chop off the stem of the romaine. He buries the knife deep into the wooden cutting block. “What else is for dinner, Nanny?” 

Crowley smiles at the boy, reaches over and pulls the knife out, handing it back to him. “Oh, I think we’ll have a pizza, what do you think?”

“Are you going to make it?” 

“Of course.” By make, Crowley means he will miracle from the best pizza place in New York. He’s already called in a lunch order slated for pickup and is waiting for the notification on his phone that it’s ready. The order will disappear without ever being paid for. He’s orchestrated it to appear that Foodler is at fault. 

“You make the best pizzas, Nanny.” 

“Of course I do,” he says surreptitiously. “And why?”

“Because Nanny is the best!” Warlock says excitedly. He tosses the knife in the air. “Wahoo Nanny!” 

Brother Francis chooses that moment to come bustling back in through the swinging kitchen door. The light glints off the blade as it flies through the air. Crowley grabs and catches the knife blade first before it lands on Aziraphale’s head. He feels the blade slice into his fingers. 

Aziraphale is preoccupied examining two gift bags, one with red and gold hearts, the other. . .  _ oh, Satan, help him. _ . . the other is cloth and black and covered in silver glitter hearts and is definitely  _ not _ what Crowley sent him up there to grab. How had Aziraphale even found it? He must have seen it sticking out from under the bed . . . “I saw two in your room and I wasn’t sure which one it was, so I just brought both down.” 

“Oh, Nanny, you’re bleeding!” Warlock says. 

“What?! How! Where!?” Aziraphale drops the bags, steps forward, and accidentally kicks the black bag across the room, shouting in alarm. He brings his fingers up to snap and Crowley uses his other hand to grab Aziraphale’s in an iron grip. 

“Just a cut, Brother,” he says tightly, glaring at the angel. He’s still holding the knife in his other hand. Blood is trickling down his wrist. He drops Aziraphale’s hand and then grabs the knife by the handle, moving quickly to the sink, turning the faucet on and jamming his hand underneath. He snaps the fingers on his other hand the blood stops running. 

“I threw the knife up in the air and Nanny caught it because it was going to land on your head, Brother Francis,” Warlock says. “Ohh, Nanny, are you going to be able to make pizza if you cut your hand off?”

Aziraphale looks bewildered. “Why were you throwing a knife! That’s not safe!”

Warlock is nonplussed. “Nanny says I have to learn to use all the weapons at my disposal so that when I’m leading an army I look like I know what I’m doing.” He comes over to the sink to look at Crowley’s hand. “Can you still make pizza if you’ve only got one hand, Nanny? Will you need a hook hand?”

“Yes, I’ll be able to make pizza,” Crowley says. “Look, see, already stopped bleeding.”

“I don’t want you to be hurt, Nanny,” the boy says seriously. “That would be awful if you died. No one makes pizza as good as you do.” He reaches up and clasps Crowley’s good hand. “I would be so sad.” 

Aziraphale takes a step forward and accidentally kicks the red gift bag, sending the contents scattering across the kitchen floor. 

“Candy!” Warlock exclaims excitedly. He drops Crowley’s hand, Nanny’s potential hook hand and/or death already forgotten in his excitement for sugar. Boxes of candy hearts and two small heart shaped chocolate boxes are strewn across the kitchen floor. Warlock picks up a box of the candy hearts and opens it immediately, then turns with wide eyes to Nanny. “Nanny, can I-”

“Absolutely.”

He grins and empties the box of hearts on the island. “That’s funny, this one says ‘Bite me’,” he says, then pops the candy in his mouth. He chews for a moment and then gags, running to the sink and spitting. “Ugh, Nanny that’s terrible.”

Crowley laughs. “Exactly! They’re rubbish, aren’t they? But stupid hu-- I mean, people, buy them every year because they think they should, eat them because they think they remember them being good, and then get upset about the waste of money and calories!” 

“They’re gross! Isn’t there any chocolate?”

“The chocolate is for after dinner,” Crowley says. “Why don’t you go play XBOX?” 

Warlock makes a dash for the door, knocking into Aziraphale, who is trying to pick up some of the boxes of heart candies. He doesn’t slow down but yells, “Sorry Brother Francis!” as he explodes through the swinging door. 

Crowley shuts the water off, drying his hands on his apron. “Well that was fun,” he says. 

Aziraphale looks up at Crowley from where he is crouched on the floor. One of his prosthetics is loose. Crowley surreptitiously miracles it back on. “Are you trying to actually make him really, truly evil?” Aziraphale hisses. 

“What? Nooo,” Crowley says. “How is candy going to make him evil? I’m just doing my job. You’re supposed to be the good influence. I’m the bad one. Here I am, doing bad.” 

“But letting him play with knives-”

“He’s not going to hurt himself!”

“No, he’s just going to accidentally discorporate me.” 

“No one accidentally discorporated you. Everything is fine. I’m the only one who was hurt.” He waves his healed hand in front of Aziraphale’s face to prove the point. 

Crowley’s phone buzzes on the counter. He turns to check the notification while Aziraphale follows the trail of candy boxes on his hands and knees. Crowley does not want to think about Aziraphale in that particular position right now, so he turns his back and looks out the window. Dusk is settling in. 

“Oh, you remembered!” Aziraphale gasps in delight, behind him. “Strawberry creme!” 

“After dinner,” Crowley says absentmindedly, his fingers flying over the screen of his phone. Foodler has sent him a notice that the pizza place is unusually busy and his food may not be ready on time. He googles the phone number, dials it, and puts on his best American accent. “Hello, I was trying to order a pizza through Foodler and it says it won’t be ready?” He hears a strangled noise of surprise behind him.  _ Oh bollocks, _ he thinks.  _ The black bag.  _

Aziraphale is kneeling on the floor. In one hand he holds the black and silver bag. The bag that he was definitely  _ not _ supposed to pick up from Crowley’s room. In the other, he holds a very large vibrator. It’s long and thick and bright red. There are two ends, a long one for vaginal stimulation and a short one for clitoral stimulation. The tip of the shorter end is shaped like a heart. Aziraphale touches something and the apparatus begins vibrating in his hand. He drops it onto the floor like he’s been burned and it shuts off. Crowley can see a blush creeping up his neck. 

“Hello?” a voice says in his ear. 

He startles, then snaps, “What?” into the phone, forgetting to change his accent. Aziraphale looks up at him with wide eyes and Crowley makes a waving motion with his hand that he thinks very clearly means put that back where you found it. He clears his throat and does his American accent. “Yeah, I ordered a pizza for pickup. Is it ready yet?”

Aziraphale picks up the vibrator and starts carefully examining it, turning it over in his hands. Then he brings it to the sink. Crowley watches in disbelief as he picks up some dish soap and squirts it all over, then turns the water on and begins rubbing his hands up and down it, soaping the length in long sure strokes. 

“What’s the name?” the voice on the other end asks. 

“Ashtoreth,” Crowley whispers. 

“WHAT?” the voice asks. “Ya gotta speak up.”

“ASHTORETH!” Crowley shouts. 

Aziraphale turns towards him with his lips pursed, disapproving. He is still rubbing his hand up and down the vibrator in slow, distinct motions. Crowley feels his mouth go dry. He decided to wear panties today and they are suddenly absolutely soaked. 

“All right, hold on,” the American says in his ear. Crowley can hear the busy sounds of a New York pizza shop at lunchtime in the background. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers in a high pitched voice. 

Aziraphale looks up, startled. He looks down at the vibrator covered in soap and back up to Crowley and raises an eyebrow as if to say  _ Isn’t it obvious? _

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Why are you doing that?” 

Aziraphale points toward the vibrator and then points down . . . at himself? He’s definitely indicating the area around his crotch. 

Crowley blinks, slowly. Does he…? Is he really saying what Crowley thinks he’s saying? That he wants to . . . that he wants  _ Crowley _ to . . .? A slow smile spreads across Crowley’s face. How very Aziraphale. The romantic sap. Waiting until Valentine’s Day. Well, Valentine’s Day weekend. He pulls his sunglasses off, sets them down on the kitchen island. He comes up behind Aziraphale and puts the hand not holding the phone around the angel’s waist. He presses the front of his body up against Aziraphale’s backside, feeling all those gentle curves against him. How he loves those curves, how he loves all of this brilliant, beautiful angel. Aziraphale goes still. Crowley leans his head down and presses a delicate kiss to the side of his throat. _ I adore you,  _ he thinks. His hand roams over the angel’s chest through all the layers of Brother Francis’s outfit. He can’t believe this is actually happening. He lets his tongue slip past his lips and gently licks a stripe up Aziraphale’s throat, until he comes up to his ear.  _ Oh, that ear.  _ He loves that ear. How he has wanted to touch that ear with his mouth. He opens his mouth and sucks on the angel’s earlobe, running his tongue over the soft flesh there, and then gently pressing his teeth in to nibble. 

“We got it!” a voice shouts in his ear. “Ashtoreth? Izzat Jewish?” 

Crowley pulls his mouth off Aziraphale’s earlobe. “No,” he says into the phone, his voice hoarse. “Thanks, be there in a tic.” 

“In a wha?”

Crowley tosses the phone on the island behind him, putting his other hand around Aziraphale’s middle. “Aziraphale,” he murmurs, planting kisses on the back of the angel’s neck. “Angel, I’ve waited for this . . .”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, his voice thick. Crowley’s hand slides down Aziraphale’s front, trailing his hand over the gentle swell of his belly, gliding down. Crowley feels a lump in his throat. He wants to say,  _ I love you.  _

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says again. Crowley opens his mouth and draws circles on Aziraphale’s skin with his tongue. “Crowley, what are you doing?” he asks. 

Crowley freezes. He pulls back a fraction. “Uhm.” He feels like the floor has dropped out from under him and he’s falling, Falling, the world rushing up to meet him at a thousand miles an hour, the wind roaring in his ears. “Didn’t you-- didn’t you want--”

Aziraphale clears his throat, and turns, the vibrator in his hand. Crowley still hasn’t moved, and they’re pressed together in front of the kitchen sink. He can feel the length of Aziraphale’s erection against him. Aziraphale looks into his eyes. “I-- you know I- I thought-- I thought we agreed . . . in order to focus on our mission. . . “ 

Crowley blinks. “But you-- you were--” 

“Washing this,” he says softly. “I assume it’s . . . that I picked up the wrong package in your room.” He pushes the vibrator into Crowley’s chest. “It fell on the floor, I didn’t -- I mean, I would want it clean if . . . if it were me.” 

Crowley swallows. “Right, yeah, yeah . . . yeah, definitely want it clean.” He realizes that he and Aziraphale are still pressed against one another and takes a step back. He is so wet his knees feel weak. “I didn’t uhm. . . I didn’t mean for you to get that package. Thought it was. . . “

“I should have realized,” Aziraphale apologizes. 

Crowley turns his head away, finds the bag on the floor, and drops the vibrator inside. He does his best to make his face appear neutral and impassive. He will absolutely not be embarrassed by this. Aziraphale knows how Crowley feels about him. He knows and he still maintains his distance, in some strange gambit to follow all the rules Heaven laid out for him when he knows that they don’t even make sense. So Crowley is not going to hide his feelings. He finished playing that game thirteen years ago. He’s not going to start again now. “It’s fine, it’s all right,” he says, his voice clipped. “You . . . you made a motion that I thought meant you wanted me to use this on you.” He waves the black bag back and forth. “Wasn’t my intention to force myself on you.” 

Aziraphale flutters. “Oh, my dear, no,” he says. “No, please, please I’m not upset. I just know that we need to . . . to stay on target, as it were. Once this is all over, there won’t be any more danger for us, I know it.” 

Crowley thinks there won’t be any more danger because they’re both going to be killed, but he doesn’t say that. Aziraphale smiles meekly at him, and takes the bag from his hands. “I’ll just go put this back in your room.” He hurries out. 

Crowley watches the door swing shut after him. He snaps his fingers and the pizza from New York appears on the counter. In the near darkness, he looks down at the conversation hearts on the counter. 

BE MINE

YOU ROCK

BFFS

I LOVE YOU

He snaps his fingers to complete the salad, and puts a slice of pizza on each plate. He looks at the candy hearts and decides to sprinkle a couple around the slices of pizza. Warlock will be disgusted. He picks up one that says I love you and thinks about putting it on Aziraphale’s plate. The angel knows. He can sense love, he’s told Crowley that before, he has to know how Crowley feels. 

“I love you,” he whispers to the empty kitchen, just to see if he can. 

Nothing happens. 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments and kudos!


End file.
